The Hunted
by doodly-squat
Summary: Things are not as they appear. The forests around Camelot are being roamed by a magical beast, one that has even the knights on edge. Arthur is determined to put an end to the creature but that proves much harder than he would have ever imagined. Rated T just to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter 1

With the sun warming his back, Merlin gave a content sigh as he eyed the clear blue sky overhead. _How could the day get any more beautiful?_ Really, he couldn't remember the last time the weather had been this favorable. Maybe during the last sorcerer attack, or was it when that sleeping sickness broke out? When the pair of griffons tried nesting in the East Tower, maybe? Well, he did distinctly remember that his life had been in peril on the last glorious day of weather. Funny, or maybe frightening was more of the word he was looking for, how that hardly helped in pinpointing the day in question.

He wandered on, following in his own leisurely pace behind the much more serious, somber march Arthur took on. Really, couldn't his royal pratness take a moment to enjoy the beauty around them? Was he incapable of such? It wasn't like they were trekking off to their certain doom or anything. Wait…they weren't, were they?

Merlin eyed Arthur warily. He had been rather tight-lipped about this outing. He'd demanded that his crossbow be brought and that Merlin be prepared for a day of strenuous hiking, but no further explanation had been given—no matter how hard Merlin tried to coax it out of him.

Really though, after spending the last five days sneaking around the castle, skulking in corners and staying up all night trying to catch the servant/assassin working in the kitchen who was trying to poison both Arthur and Uther, was it really so much to hope that a walk in the woods was really just a walk in the woods and nothing more? Well, at least he knew that the little poisoning crisis wasn't what had Arthur in knots right now…since the cabbage-head didn't have a clue about any of it.

However, whatever had them traipsing around the forest on this fine day seemed to have been consuming all of the prince's focus as of late. He'd been absolute rubbish at the last few days at the council meetings. Distracted, irritable, sulky…come to think of it, maybe this was just him being his usual self. It really was hard to tell. Merlin grinned to himself, sorry that the jab hadn't been aloud so Arthur could appreciate it as well.

Still, this outing bothered Merlin. It was rather unusual for Arthur to head out scouting without taking any of his knights, and this hardly seemed like their typical hunting excursion either. Sure, Arthur had been vehemently following a set of tracks since they left the main road, but they looked to be nothing more than the cloven prints of a deer—albeit a rather large deer but a deer nonetheless. However, if this was a hunting trip why'd the prince opt to wear his chainmail and venture out of the castle on foot, leaving horses and hounds behind? It didn't make sense.

"So…" Merlin picked up his pace to catch up with Arthur. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

"Quiet, _Mer_lin…I knew I should have left you back at the castle."

"Um, yeah…" Tilting his head, Merlin shrugged. "…and _why _should you have done that? I'm not entirely sure what I've done wrong. To know that I think I might need to know exactly what we're doing in the first place, and since I don't…well…" He flashed that tight-mouthed grin at Arthur that always seemed to both amuse and frustrate the prince at once.

"Honestly," Arthur replied, changing direction, following the trail back into the wooded area ahead. "You would think it was obvious what _I_ am doing. _I _am tracking and _you_ are breaking _my _concentration and probably scaring away the very beast I'm trying to find."

"So…" Merlin arched an eyebrow as he stared down at the tracks they were following. "It's basically a really big stag?"

The sigh, laced with that form of irritation that only royalty could muster, almost seemed a little heavier, louder than normal. "No, _Mer_lin, it's not just a _big stag_. It's a Parandrus."

_A Parandrus?_ Merlin blinked. He knew that creature, didn't he? He'd come across it in the readings Gaius had given him. "Is that the snake and bull thingy?"

"Sure, _Mer_lin, you great dolt, it's the snake and bull one, otherwise called an Ophiotaurus, and it just happens to make giant _deer _tracks. Could you get any more stupid, really?"

_Ouch._ It was a good point, but did he have to say it like that? And it was seriously unnerving how well Arthur knew his magical creatures—mainly due to the fact that he'd, at one point, before their little Unicorn fiasco, relished the idea of killing one of each magical beast known to man. The ones he could recite by name still, those were the ones he'd either battled or killed once before already.

"The Parandrus," Arthur continued, "is a magical beast, hairy, about as big as…oh…let's say…an ox. It has the head and hooves of a deer and an uncanny ability to change its appearance, and so it is seldom sighted."

Merlin frowned as he recalled the passages he'd read on the creature. "They aren't dangerous though?" He already knew the answer. They were beast much more suited for hiding rather than fighting, and they were rarely, in the past one hundred years, reported in or around Camelot.

"Not usually."

"That seems to imply this particular instance is different somehow."

Arthur's laugh was dry, humorless. "I suppose it does."

Merlin waited, sure there was more, but uncertain if Arthur was capable of being so utterly focused on the tracks and speaking at once. A few minutes later, with still no further word passed between them, Merlin had all but given up finding out why exactly this creature had riled his master's nerves so.

"It's been attacking my knights."

Startled by the sudden admission, Merlin croaked out an awkward, "Beg your pardon?"

"My knights," Arthur turned, eyes fixed on Merlin, warning him not to laugh. "They're…put off by it."

Merlin smirked. "They're _scared_ of…"

"NOT SCARED," Arthur snapped, before turning away again, regaining some of his composure. "It's just off-putting. You'll see…" His voice lowered to a mumble. "Once we find it. If we find it, that is…what with you crashing around, we might not."

This was too good an opportunity to pass up. Merlin knew he shouldn't, but… "I dunno, Sire, it kind of sounds like they might be a bit intimidated by this terrible, plant-eating, timid creature with a magic that only helps it hide. I mean…"

"_Mer_lin!" Nostrils flaring, Arthur was quick to face his manservant again. Anyone else would've cowered under the glare, but Merlin knew better. This was all for show. "I _can't _have the people thinking my knights are afraid of some deer-like beast. I simply cannot have them doubting the bravery or skill of my men." He turned back to the tracks, kneeling down to study them closer. "Just think of what that would do to the Kingdom…if they lost faith in me and my men over something as stupid as this. So, if you could just…"

"Arthur…" It was probably going to be a good lecture, one that Merlin normally would have let play out, but… "Arthur?"

Continuing to study the tracks, the great dollop-head didn't bother glancing up. "Really, _Mer_lin, You can't even be quiet while I'm…."

"ARTHUR!" The urgency finally won out, and the prince looked up to find the creature standing on the cliff above them that had Merlin so panicked.

The Parandrus was far from what Merlin had imagined. Perhaps though, that was because it was far from what it should have been. He could feel the taint of dark magic enveloping it, poisoning it.

It stood some eighteen hands high, not including the antlers—which, coated with dark, limp patches of shedding velvet, resembled the gnarled roots of a blighted tree. Mangy and matted, the long, dark grey hair of the beast quivered and danced as its muscles spasmed in an odd, unnatural cadence. A few long, festering gashes adorned its sides, but they hardly seemed to bother or worry the creature much. Instead, it fixed its dark, dull eyes on Arthur. Breathing hard, the Parandrus' chest heaved with each intake of air. There was hate, pure and uncompromising hate filling that stare. Merlin could see it. He could sense it, feel it dancing on the magic exuding from the beast.

And then, right before their eyes, the Parandrus disappeared, but it wasn't leaving, Merlin knew that. It had no plans of running away or hiding, of that he was sure. It had come for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Watching Merlin twitch and jump at every leaf flickering in the wind and random bird call made Arthur's skin start to itch. Why could the man not sit still? He took a second to eye Merlin, noting the sweat beading on his brow and the way his wide, frightened gaze kept scanning the surrounding forest. How in the world had he ended up with such a coward of a manservant? But, he felt a stab of guilt at that. He should've never brought Merlin along on this outing. Of course, he'd thought that same thing on multiple other quests, battles, hunts and whatnot, and yet nothing ever changed. Merlin was still always at his side when danger struck.

Sword at the ready, Arthur took a step forward, then another. He'd much rather face the Parandrus than watch Merlin flinch about any longer. Focusing all his senses on the woods around him, Arthur nearly jumped out of his boots as the voice sounded beside him.

"I don't think it's gone."

"Damn it, _Mer_lin," he hissed back, never taking his gaze off the surrounding trees. "I kind of figured as much." It was sort of hard not to. He could practically taste the sense of foreboding in the air, of the impending attack.

"Oh?" That damn smile, he could hear that damn smile in Merlin's voice. He didn't even have to look. "What makes you think it's still around, because for me I've just got…"

"One of your funny feelings about it?" Arthur replied. "Of course you do, _Mer_lin, but I am relying on my hunter's senses, my knowhow and my experience."

"So, you got a funny feeling too, then?"

_That_ he wasn't even going to grace with an answer. Princes didn't do 'funny feelings,' and if they did, well, they sure as hell didn't admit it.

"What do you suppose is wrong with it?" The playfulness was gone. There was no joking now in Merlin's tone.

"Wrong with it?" Arthur snorted. _What kind of a question was that? "_It's a magical beast in Camelot. That's what's wrong with it. Really, Merlin, what's gotten into you?"

"You saw it though. There was something…" Merlin paused and Arthur chanced another glance over at his manservant.

Mouth pursed and pulled in a slight frown, Merlin was gazing off into the trees, as if he could see something Arthur couldn't. It almost felt as if there was something ancient stirring in that stare, as if there were some great secrets buried in those eyes of his, hidden in his soul. Arthur shrugged the thought away. It was nonsense. This was Merlin. _His _Merlin. There was no way the man was anything more than what he appeared—a nearly worthless, clumsy, bumbling manservant.

"There's something off about it." Arthur conceded at last. He wasn't a fool. This creature wasn't what it should've been. They were dealing with far more than just a lone, wandering magical beast. "It seems as if dark magic is at work here."

"Morgana?"

Arthur shrugged. "Perhaps, or perhaps some other sorcerer or sorceress hell bent on destroying the kingdom." _And, determined to get their revenge. _He refused to voice that last bit, partly because he knew Merlin would already be thinking it. The boy would go as pale as a sheet whenever magic was mentioned, but he had a queer sense of empathy toward those with it as well. Truthfully though, Merlin didn't seem much capable of watching anything suffer. His incessant prattling on about the poor, defenseless animals during Arthur's hunting trips was proof of that.

The sharp snapping of twigs had Arthur spinning around, only to find Merlin sprawled on the ground, goofy grin in place.

"Sorry, lost my footing." He sat up, still looking tense but also hesitant to make any sudden movements.

"_Mer_lin! How do you expect us to—"

The jolt, the force of charging flesh, the power of muscle and horn, hoof and hairy armor hide knocked the very breath from Arthur's chest. The world became a blur. He was moving still, too quickly. Almost toppling over as he clung on to…fur? Ears? Legs? He wasn't sure—just that it was in his grasp, that he couldn't let go, that he had to avoid being trampled or gored by the beast's antlers. His sword was gone, lost at the shock of impact.

Before he could plan anything out, the Parandrus jerked again and Arthur found himself sailing through the air, landing hard on a rocky patch of ground. His ribs ached, his vision danced, but still he managed to force himself into a crouch, one that quickly faltered as he fell back onto his rear.

The Parandrus stood silently watching him for a moment. Everything about the beast looked dead, hollow. There was no life in its eyes, no luster or health in its appearance. And that's when Arthur felt the cold chill go through him, when death seemed to be lurking too close.

Slowly, the creature lowered its head, pointing antlers at Arthur and started a slow march forward. Heart pounding, everything in Arthur screamed at him to move, but he couldn't. It was as if he'd been rooted in place, frozen by the creature's hypnotic, slow progression.

It wasn't until the Parandrus' left flank twitched when a rock harmless bounced off it, did Arthur start to regain his senses.

"Hey!" Merlin shouted, another rock already in hand. "He may be a clot pole, but he's a royal clot pole! You can't just go shoving him around like that. He bruises easy."

Arthur would have to hand it to Merlin though. He was a lot quicker than the prince had thought he was, because when the Parandrus turned and charged, Arthur's manservant had already disappeared over the first ridge.

Alone, Arthur stared out into the forest, straining to hear any hint of what was happening. Only silence greeted him though. Even the bird songs had stilled.

He wanted to get up, to find Merlin, but…

His vision dimmed and the earth beneath him seemed to sway, tumble. No, not the earth. He must have swayed and tumbled. Blinking, he realized he was laying down, that he could feel cool rocks and moss beneath him, pressing into his face. His last thoughts were of Merlin, wondering what chance the boy had and finding himself despairing over the answer he came up with. None.

And then he blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

A plan would've been good, of that he was certain.

Sprinting through the forest, Merlin could hear the Parandrus crashing through the brush not far behind him. Already his legs were tiring. It would be impossible to keep up the dead run much longer, but he also knew that turning to face the Parandrus would've ended poorly for him. Without a weapon in hand, he'd have nothing to defend himself with, and his magic had already proved undeniably useless against it.

His mind raced back over the events that had unfolded, over how he'd watched the Parandrus plow into Arthur, how his first instinct had been to strike at the beast with magic and how his power had seemingly gone right through the creature, leaving it untouched. Even his second spell, the one aimed at the branch above the beast, went afoul. The branch broke and fell, yes, but it hesitated, falling only well after the Parandrus was past. There was something, some enchantment, some spell protecting the creature—of that he was sure. And, until he or Gaius could puzzle it out, his magic would do him no good.

Pure desperation had driven Merlin to scoop up those rocks, toss them and shout as if this beast was nothing more than one of Camelot's oversized hounds. For a moment, he even felt brave, but that had been the briefest, most fleeting of moments. Now, well, now he felt anything but brave.

Few times had he been completely stripped of the protection of his magic. He felt far too exposed, too vulnerable. Pushing down the panic, he tried again to form some rational plan but nothing came to him.

Lungs burning, breath coming in great gasps, he spun on his heels, ready to put up what fight he could. He could feel his magic stirring inside him, ready to leap out, to protect. It would do no good, but…

The Parandrus burst through the brush, dark, red-rimmed nostrils flaring, muzzle frothing. Its eyes set immediately on Merlin in a stare that chilled him to his very soul. It wasn't a living thing looking at him. No, this was something dark, something ancient, something that had no right being in this world any longer.

Just as the creature charged, he let his magic fly, but, just as before, it failed. A split second of despair filled him, overwhelmed him before he braced for the impact, but, at the last second, the beast reared back and gave a heart piercing scream.

Dropping to his knees, cupping his hands over his ears, trying to keep that soul shattering sound at bay, Merlin suddenly felt a new magical presence. As the Parandrus grew quiet, Merlin glanced up, finding the dark creature edging back, but all the while never turning his back on Merlin or perhaps it was trying not to turn its back on…

Merlin glanced behind him, finding another Parandrus there, but this one was far from what his tainted kin had become. Though he wanted to look back, to watch the dark creature slink away, there was something too mesmerizing about this newcomer.

Its hide was silver, a shining, shimmering silver that wasn't just of age. It came from magic. Built the same as the other Parandrus, it was muscular with the broad body resembling a bear, but the nimble legs and head of a deer. Its antlers were soft grey, not brilliant silver like its coat. They looked impossibly supported by the slender neck, as these antlers far dwarfed that of the other Parandrus. Still, the creature stood tall, proud, wild and yet all at once it held an air of humbleness, tameness to it. Everything about it was a curiosity, creating strange contradictions in Merlin's thoughts.

It wasn't until he gazed into those eyes, into those deep dark pools of amber that Merlin started to relax. There was no taint of dark magic, there was life still in this creature—noble life.

And then he sensed it. There were no words spoken aloud or in his mind. It was more feelings, images that passed between them. A sense of knowing, a sense of understanding who Merlin was, who Arthur was shared by the creature. Then there was sorrow, great sorrow as the Parandrus stared out into the forest its kin had disappeared into. An image appeared then in Merlin's mind. An elderly couple, bent and wrinkled, soured with dark magic. They were in the woods, somewhere just west of the Valley of the Fallen Kings, before the span of swamplands and growing mountain ranges. Another image, more intense, one that pulsed in Merlin's head—it was a box, held tight with frayed leather straps and decorated in strange markings. Clutched tightly in the old man's hands, it kept pulsing with a dark life as an image of the tainted Parandrus faded in and out of Merlin's head as well. A heart—the Parandrus' heart was in the box. He could sense the sadness in his link with the other creature grow.

Then, the images came in quick succession, nearly overwhelming Merlin's senses. Poison dripping from antlers. Arthur lying on the ground, pale and sweaty. Images of a quest, one they had yet to take on flashed in his head. Arthur would weaken and then Merlin would heal him, but the poison remained. Only after an image of the leather bound box burning showed did an image of a fully recovered Arthur present itself.

"I have to destroy the box? The heart?" Merlin whispered. His throat felt so dry and his voice came out in a low croak. "And then Arthur will be cured?"

The Parandrus stood almost perfectly still save for the flickering of its right ear.

"And the other creature…will…" He paused, feeling that flood of grief rise from the Parandrus again. "…be able to rest?"

The feeling changed. There was still grief, but there was relief and gratitude as well. And then the creature slowly faded from sight.

Merlin sat there, staring at where he'd last seen the Parandrus until one last image was sent to him again. It was Arthur, lying face and unmoving. That finally got him moving again.


	4. Chapter 4

Waking was not pleasant. The deep throbbing in Arthur's head only grew as he edged further into consciousness. Hazy memories of danger, of urgency flickered through his thoughts, but they were too fleeting to comprehend.

Slowly, he opened his eyes but regretted the action soon enough.

The soft daylight proved to be too much for him as his head continued to pulse and throb. Shutting his eyes against the blur of world around him, he let out a groan.

"Arthur?" The voice was gentle, low and sounded from nearby.

_Merlin_—Arthur would've known that voice anywhere. The one that greeted him first thing in the morning, calling him out of bed, the one that was constantly jabbering on beside him during their travels, no matter how often he was told to shut up, the one who'd been with him when…

_The Parandrus! _

Arthur snapped his eyes open again and squinted against the dim light. This time he refused to let his aching head pressure him into remaining sightless. It took a moment for the form hovering above him to come into focus—that dopey half-smile, those crescent shaped, blue eyes sparkling with some mischief or joy that Arthur could never full understand and that mop of dark hair._  
_

_But how? _Arthur blinked up at his manservant for a moment, wondering how his last memory of the young man had him facing certain doom and yet here he stood. There was no way that Merlin could've defeated the Parandrus on his own, no way he could've done what Arthur could not. Had his knights arrived to save them? Arthur glanced about but found no else around. It was only them, in the woods with late evening setting in.

"How'd you…"

"Get away?" Merlin chimed in, still grinning from ear to ear, but a hint of concern, worry had crept into his gaze as well. "Well…that gets a bit…um…complicated."

"How about you uncomplicated it for me, hmmm, _Mer_lin?" With some effort, Arthur pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring Merlin's disapproving glare.

"You really should keep still, you know? You've taken a nasty bump to the head. Why, you could have a concussion or a you could be bleeding in your…"

"Merlin!" Arthur didn't care if the worry was genuine or not—though he was certain it was. He wasn't going to let the fool change the subject so easily. "What happened?"

"Well, there was a Parandrus and…"

"Stop being such an idiot," Arthur snapped. His head was aching far too much for Merlin's runaround. "I now there was Parandrus. What happened with it? I saw it chasing you off into the woods before I blacked out."

Merlin plopped down next to Arthur and shrugged. "Um. Well…There was another Parandrus?"

This conversation was not helping Arthur's poor head. Taking in a deep breath and wincing slightly at his tender ribs, he steadied his nerve and asked the next question in the calmest voice he could muster.

"So there were two of these things in the forest? And you escaped both of them? Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"The second one wasn't like the one you were tracking." That lopsided smile eased off Merlin's face as he stared at the forest canopy above. His next words were softer, unsure. "It saved me."

They sat silently for a moment. Merlin had that awkward, sheepish look he got whenever he tried to lie or hide some truth. Really, the man was rubbish at keeping anything secret. Absolute rubbish.

"What else?" Arthur demanded finally. "There's more, isn't there?"

Merlin nodded, but remained silent a few moments longer, as if he couldn't decide how to proceed.

"It warned me. Let me know that the other Parandrus is cursed, that there's an elderly couple living just west of the Valley of the Fallen Kings who are dabbling in dark magic, that they have enchanted the creature we tracked. They have its heart, and the only way to stop it is to find its heart and destroy it."

Arthur groaned. Of course there had to be a curse and dark magic that would require him to go off on a quest to find some key element to help save Camelot. Granted, this was if he believed Merlin's story.

He eyed his manservant carefully, but he could sense no reason for deceit. Merlin was many things, but he was no liar—not for matters of such importance. He may have spun a lie a time or two to sneak off to the pub, but never over something so crucial, or at least not that Arthur knew of. He narrowed his gaze on Merlin, but gave a snort of amusement over the thought.

"We'll head back to Camelot, get some rest tonight and gear up again and head off in the morning. I'll have Gwaine and…"

"NO!" Merlin was staring at Arthur wide-eyed, his outburst seeming to have startled even himself. "I mean…we can't. We can't go back to Camelot. We can't waste any time. If we camp here, we'll be that much closer to our destination. We can start off at first light." He offered up a pitifully forced smile. "That way we can be done that much faster with this whole mess. We just shouldn't waste time."

Those quick glances Merlin kept giving, the way his eyes kept roving over to Arthur's shoulder didn't go unnoticed. Looking down, the prince noticed the faint patches of red on his collarbone. It was nothing, barely a graze. An antler must've slipped beneath his chainmail when the beast charged, but he'd been fortunate. The damage was nothing. He hardly even felt it. If Merlin was worried over something so slight then he really was more of a girl than Arthur originally thought.

There was no reason to worry over something so minor. _Unless_…

"How long do I have?" Arthur asked, his suspicion confirmed by that sad, knowing glance Merlin gave him.

"I dunno for sure, but I should be able to keep you on your feet, keep you up long enough to find and destroy the heart. I think I can find some herbs and roots to help slow the poison."

Arthur nodded, then a new, worrisome thought struck him. "You weren't marked by the antlers were you?"

Merlin shook his head and then stood. "I'll gather some wood and see if I can find us something to eat. I don't think anything will bother us again tonight." But he didn't move off, he just kept staring, studying, waiting for something.

Stifling a yawn, Arthur glared back at Merlin. He wanted so badly to get up, to show that he wasn't weak, but he couldn't deny how weighted his limbs were starting to feel. He didn't want to lay back, not yet, but suddenly he found himself being lowered down. Merlin was crouched beside him, gently guiding him to the ground.

"Just get some sleep, sire. I'll take care of everything. Don't worry."

_Don't worry._ That almost made Arthur laugh. Closing his eyes, he thought that over. Just him and Merlin alone in the forest, some unknown poison coursing through his veins, a magical, cursed beast still on the loose and Merlin says not to worry…that _he'll _take care of everything.

Funny thing though, maybe it was the delirium setting in from the poison, but Arthur actually believed that Merlin could do just that.


	5. Chapter 5

Campfire crackling beside him, Merlin sat watching over Arthur as he slept. With his magic unable to defend them, there was little he could do if the Parandrus attacked again, but that hardly mattered. He couldn't get himself to drop his guard with the threat still looming.

Arthur smacked his lips, sighed and turned in his sleep so that he was facing Merlin. He looked like he hadn't a care in the world, as if they weren't in mortal danger. It would have been infuriating, but, currently, all Merlin could feel was relief that the other man was resting up, that he wasn't in pain.

By the flickering light of the flames, Merlin could make out the flush of pink in the prince's cheeks, but it wasn't overly pronounced—not like earlier. He shrugged as he thought of how quickly the poison had taken hold already.

He hadn't wanted to use so much magic, not so soon. He knew the poison would get harder to combat, that he'd have to ration out his spells, save some of his energy for when things had progressed too far. Using the sleeping spell to keep Arthur under hadn't helped either, but what other way was there to use his healing magic without the prat seeing?

Tossing more wood onto the fire, Merlin shook his head in frustration. _Things would be so much easier if I didn't have to sneak around all the time. _The thought, though not new, never ceased to open up all manners of emotions in the young warlock. Sadness, determination, guilt and fear all stirred inside him.

No, Arthur wasn't ready yet. The secret had to be kept, but someday…

His thoughts trailed before he gave a start at realizing how close he was to dozing off. His eyes were starting to burn, his muscle were aching. Soon he would have to rest. He knew that. It was foolish to think he could go nonstop, that he could keep this pace up until they got to the elderly couple's cabin in the woods.

Already he had healed Arthur twice. He shivered at the thought of trying to purify that dark poison within Arthur. It writhed and slipped from his grasp, forcing him to delve into more powerful magic. After chasing it down, exhausting himself in the process, he was rewarded with the agony of watching whatever minuscule amount of poison start to swell back, retaking what Merlin had just healed.

His magic was buying time at least, but that was all it was doing. Curing Arthur was far beyond his means, just as the silver Parandrus had warned him. Still, he glanced over at Arthur again, the temptation to try driving the poison out growing once again, but he decided against it. Instead, he stiffly shifted and allowed his aching body to lie back. In the back of his mind, he could almost sense the silver Parandrus' presence, as if it still remained nearby protecting them. He hoped that was true.

Letting out a tired sigh, Merlin closed his eyes. A little voice in his head nagged him for giving in to his body's need, but it couldn't be helped any longer. He needed rest. He'd have to get up early though, put another sleeping spell on Arthur and heal him once more before they set off. Hopefully it would only be a day's travel, maybe two, to the source of the curse. Any longer than that and he wasn't so sure either Arthur or he would make it.


	6. Chapter 6

Something stirred him from his sleep—something loud, annoying and, squinting up at the silhouette looming over him, Arthur was quick to notice the oversized ears attached to this particular _something_.

"_Mer_lin, go away." It was still dark out. The idiot should've known better. It was only considered morning _after _the sun came up.

Arthur shifted, rolling onto his side, away from his servant. All he wanted was sleep, to drift back into that warm unconsciousness and forget about… What was it he wanted to forget about?

The previous day's events slowly came back to him, the gravity of the situation once again taking hold. Slowly, he sat up, expecting the waves of nausea, weakness and fever to overwhelm him again. They'd set in, or at least he recalled they had set in as he'd drifted off to sleep the night before. However, now he felt fine. He didn't feel totally healed, but he was far what he'd been the night before.

He turned to eye Merlin, finding the man happily stirring a pot of…_porridge?_ His amazement gave way to irritation as he realized how displeased he'd probably be with his manservant's explanation of how'd he'd acquired their breakfast. Honestly, nothing went smoothly when Merlin was involved. Past experience had taught Arthur that much. "What _did _you do, Merlin?"

Wide-eyed, Merlin looked up and froze. He opened his mouth, as if he were going to answer, but he instead simply let his jaw hang there as he stood silently staring back at the Arthur. That certainly wasn't a good sign.

"What did I _do_?" Merlin repeated, finally forcing something out.

Gingerly getting to his feet, Arthur wandered closer, getting a better look in the pot sitting at Merlin's feet. "For starters, how'd you get the food?"

Eyebrow quirked, Merlin swallowed hard as his gaze shifted to the porridge. "The food?"

"Yes, Merlin, the food. I'm assuming it didn't magically appear. How'd you get it?" Was it just Arthur's imagination or did Merlin actually flinch at that? Well, Arthur's tone had been a bit harsh, and while a little inner voice was telling him to go easy on his servant, another voice, the one that didn't do well after being woken up in the early mornings and who was rather grumpy before he'd eaten, didn't care.

"There was…a…um…woodcutter's cabin not far from here." Merlin paused, offering up that goofy, lopsided grin of his. "I had to trade a few _things_ to get supplies, but it was worth it. Look here…" He proudly held up a two small, lumpy sacks. "I got these—porridge and rice. At least we won't go hungry. And I got the pot and some other gear as well."

Well, that actually wasn't so bad. They had needed supplies and backtracking to the castle wasn't an option, so…

"Wait a minute." A jab of dread settling in his chest, Arthur scanned their makeshift campsite one more time in hopes his suspicion was wrong. "Where's my cloak and gloves? And did you _trade_ my dagger?"

"You still have your sword. That should do well enough for now."

Somehow that reasoning was not sitting well with Arthur, nor did he enjoy the matter of fact way his manservant presented it in.

"And why, pray tell, Merlin, didn't you trade _your _stuff for what we needed?"

At that Merlin grinned. "Well, I tried, but he didn't seem to want my neckerchief or my dusty old satchel and I didn't want to give up my boots. I might be needing those."

Well, of course the man didn't want anything of Merlin's. The man hardly ever carried weapons and his clothes... Arthur didn't even want to get started on the man's clothes. Maybe if he'd taken a bit of pride and wore anything that was worth a darn they would've been able to avoid this.

"You can't simply go around trading _my_ things, _Mer_lin! I am the crown prince and that dagger was a gift from my father, and not just anyone can wear a cloak of a Knight of Camelot. You don't have the..."

Before Arthur could go on, Merlin came up beside him and thrust a bowl of porridge into his hands.

"I know," Merlin answered with a smirk. "That's why I only gave over those things for him to hold onto, for reassurance we'd come back and pay the coin I offered him. It seemed fair at the time. I know I should've asked you first, but you needed to sleep and I didn't want to wake you."

Squatting down to sit on a log, Arthur eyed his breakfast, mainly so he didn't have to see that smudge expression on Merlin's face.

"And what about my recovery from last night?" Arthur was curious about that, but he was also ready to change the subject. Gloating wasn't pretty on Merlin.

"Herbs?"

He glanced up to find Merlin with a stupid, plastered-on grin adorning his face. It was the type of expression that was far from natural. Something wasn't right.

"Is that a question, _Mer_lin, or are you telling me that herbs are what healed me?"

"Well…" Smile gone, Merlin shifted toward the pot and scooped himself up a bowl of the lumpy, grey mush. "The herbs didn't exactly heal you completely. The poison will weaken you again, but the herbs bought us some time." He sat down on a rock and scrammed his mouth full of porridge.

A part of Arthur was starting to question if it was really worth it to try and muscle the information out of Merlin. The man was a horrible liar, but he was also infuriatingly stubborn.

"So, herbs managed to help hold back the poison of dark magic inside me? What _kind _ of herbs?"

Merlin shook his head as he shoveled more food into his mouth. "Mman't maulk foo im mouff…"

"What?" It took Arthur a moment to translate the gibberish. _Can't talk, food in mouth. _

He thought of calling Merlin on that, making him answer, but as he watched the man eat, as he noticed those dark bags under his servant's bloodshot eyes, the way Merlin tried acting like he wasn't exhausted, like he hadn't gone to great efforts to get them supplies, to save Arthur's life, the prince lost that drive to badger the man.

They ate breakfast quickly and packed up what little gear they had, Merlin prattling on about how beautiful the weather was the entire time. When they finally set off though, the young man had finally gone quiet as he followed along behind Arthur.

Time and again as the day wore on, Arthur considered striking up a conversation, but his energy was already waning and he had no intention of tipping Merlin off to that fact. But, he probably knew already. Gaius had taught him well. Even Arthur was impressed with Merlin's knowledge of herbs. He could've said as much. In fact, he chastised himself for not, but, he continued to hold his tongue.

At dusk they stopped to set up camp.

By Arthur's estimate, they'd reach their destination late in the following day, or at least he hoped they would. There was a very good chance their pace would slow, or, more to the point, that he'd slow their pace. He could feel the poison slowly deadening his limbs, dulling his thoughts.

As Arthur sat and watched, Merlin hustled about, gathering wood, refilling their water pouches, starting a fire and cooking dinner. He didn't even realize he'd been dozing until Merlin gently nudged him awake.

"Hey, sleepyhead, time to eat."

He blinked wearily as a bowl of rice was handed to him. How much he ate before setting the dish aside and laying back down, he couldn't be sure, though he did recall Merlin grumbling over wasted food.

"Idiot," He grumbled as his eyelids drooped.

"Prat." Came the answer back, and that was the last thing he remembered before settling back into a fevered sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Tired didn't even begin to describe how Merlin felt. His muscles felt leaden, dead even. Every step was more of a challenge than the last, but one look at Arthur and he bit back any complaint he had wished to voice.

If that dazed, glossy stare or weary shuffle hadn't tipped Merlin off to Arthur's condition, the man's stoic, stony silence did the trick. It wasn't that '_you're an idiot that I can't bother talking to_' silence. No, Merlin knew that silence well enough. That treatment he could negate, reverse with a few witty quips that would get the prat talking again. This was a weighty silence of burden, weariness and pain, and breaking it would do no good. Conversation alone could not ease what haunted them.

In the end, Merlin kept silent, watching his master struggle on, wanting to help but finding no opportunity to do so. Arthur refused to stop very often for rest. He pushed on, hardly eating but staying well hydrated. Merlin saw to that at least.

By the time they did halt to set up camp for the night, Arthur practically collapsed to the ground. More than anything, Merlin wanted to tend to his prince, make whole what was fading, but he knew that look on Arthur's face—that fierce pride, that determination not to be weak, not to show his failing strength. In seeing that, Merlin pushed his concern aside and instead tended to the camp and fixed their meal.

Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't like there was anything he could truly do for the prince without using his magic, and the situation was far from dire enough for him to risk exposure. He could only hope it never got that far, but, if it did, he already knew what his choice would be. Arthur's life came first. It always did. He would just have to live _or die _with the consequences.

He shivered at the thought of being bound to the flame licked stake atop a pyre in Camelot. The death itself would be horrible, heat searing flesh, boiling blood and sucking the air from his lungs. He'd heard the screams of others before; they still haunted his dreams, made him wake from his slumber in a cold sweat.

But, more than the pain, he couldn't bear to think of how his friends would react. Surely they wouldn't stand by and watch. _Would they? _He could almost picture their faces as they watched him burn. Sometimes the expressions were creased, etched in sadness, but other times he saw flashes of their hatred, their disgust.

Maybe his betrayal, his lies would be too much for them to handle? Perhaps Uther's law would stand and that would be the end of him. What if no one spoke up for him? Would they shake their heads in sorrow and shame all the while muttering that his passing was for the best? That magic was evil?

No, he couldn't let reveal what he was yet, not if it could be helped.

But, already he suspected that Arthur was starting to question his miracle 'herbs' that were supposedly healing the dark magic's poison. He felt a stab of panic every time the prince brought the subject up. Surely the man could see through the lie._ Or maybe not._ He glanced over at the pale form starting to doze beside the fire. He'd been less observant as the fever took hold, far less likely to puzzle together the young warlock's great secret.

Merlin scooped some rice from the pot and made his way to Arthur. Nudging the prince's shoulder gently he said softly, "Hey, sleepyhead, time to eat."

Heavy lids lifted, Arthur owlishly blinked up at him. He didn't reach for the food or acknowledge it much at all. It wasn't until Merlin placed it in his hands that Arthur seemed to fully understand why he'd been waken.

Slowly the prince ate, setting the bowl aside after only taking in five or six small mouthfuls. That wouldn't be enough to keep his energy up—not for what he'd be up against the following day.

Merlin shrugged after he picked up the bowl and studied the uneaten meal. Chastising Arthur would do no good, still…

"Ah, wasting precious food…just like the royal clot pole you are. I suppose you'll want me up later to cook you a proper meal then, huh? You think you'll get some grand feast in the forest, I'd imagine."

Arthur eased himself back, a half-hearted, weary smile creeping onto his face. "Idiot," he muttered as his eyelids slid shut once again.

"Prat," Merlin answered though he wasn't sure the prince heard as sleep had apparently already taken hold of him.

Giving Arthur time to settle into a deep slumber, Merlin gathered their bowls and the pot and trudged the short distance to the stream. After cleaning up, he tended the campfire and only then settled down beside Arthur.

Dusk had already set in and soon the full moon would show itself, bringing a wash of pale light. A few bats winged overhead; Merlin could only catch glimpses of their dark forms streaking by as they hunted mosquitoes and the like.

He moved closer to Arthur, trying not to dwell on how good the warmth of the fire felt or how nice it would be to lay down and shut his eyes for just a moment. But, he knew better. A moment would turn into far more than that if he gave in to the wants of his tired body.

Calling forth his magic, he cast a spell to keep the prince asleep. He'd retract it once the healing was done but only then. Then, tentatively, he used his magic to prod Arthur's body, to search out the darkness tainting his blood.

Again, like before, it fought him. The poison evaded and slipped his hold repeatedly. Now though, it also lashed back at him sending flares of hot pain through his magic. He was draining quicker this time, his own energy being sapped from him, but still he continued on.

The moon was already directly overhead when Merlin finished. Drenched in a cold sweat, he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and let out a soft groan. He'd taken far too long locked in the healing process.

After releasing the sleeping spell from Arthur, so that the prince could wake if needed, Merlin slunk down next to the fire. He laid back, his eyes struggling to keep open as he shifted on the cold ground. He didn't even have it in him to search out his blanket.

His vision blurred slightly but was set into a sharp focus again as a sudden movement caught his attention.

The streak of silver that appeared in the woods not far from their camp almost seemed to catch the moonlight. It took a moment for Merlin's brain to comprehend what he saw-the glowing silver figure that danced with the shadow that seemed even darker than the night itself.

It was the Parandrus_._ He could hear their hooves tear at the earth, the shock of horns and skulls colliding and the grunts and snorts as they battled.

Alarmed, he tried to stir, to force his body up but he found himself unable to do so. All too late, he realized that he'd pushed himself too far, reached his limit.

Then, a rush of reassurance filled him, calmed his panic and seemed to convey a strange unspoken message that he easily understood. He sensed that it would be ok to sleep, that the silver Parandrus would keep the fight from reaching them, but there was a warning as well. It was urgent and insisted to be heeded.

Closing his eyes once again, Merlin understood. The two wielders of dark magic, the old couple near the swamp, knew he and Arthur were coming and they would do _anything_ in their power to stop them.

Still listening to the struggle nearby, Merlin fell into a troubled sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

A wash of annoyance flooded Arthur as he cracked his eyelids open to find sunlight already bathing their camp in warm rays. They should've been packed and moving hours ago. Merlin should've woken him already. One simple task messed up. Why was Arthur not surprised?

He sat up quickly, stretched, yawned and then rose to his feet before snatching his sword from the ground and securing it to his side. It was only then that he noticed his renewed strength, his lack of fever or body aches. He cast a glance at the man still curled up beside the remnants of their night's campfire.

Merlin might've been many things, a lazy, incompetent, clumsy, irritating, loud fool of a servant, but he was the most loyal idiot Arthur had ever met. He knew, without a doubt, as he stare down at the man that Merlin had done everything in his power to help heal as much as the poison's effects as possible. He studied Merlin a moment, taking in the pallid tone of his skin, the dark bags under his eyes, the way that, even in sleep, he looked utterly exhausted. He must've stayed up late preparing the herbs for Arthur. He'd probably had to gather them in the night as well. Arthur certainly hadn't seen any herbs in the provisions Merlin was currently toting.

Reluctantly, Arthur stepped forward to wake his manservant. Sleep would have certainly done the young man some good, but they didn't have that luxury at the moment. He was about to bend down, to shake Merlin awake, when he was distracted by the landscape around them.

Slowly, he strode a few steps away from the heart of their camp and surveyed the grounds, noting the destruction. Trees were scarred, patches of bark shorn from their sides, white pulpy wood exposed, gleaming in the daylight. Bushes and grass were trampled, branches broken. The soil itself was pockmarked, almost appearing tilled in places. He could find no tracks though, as if someone, something even, had wiped the area clean of evidence.

Behind him, he could hear Merlin stir.

"What happened last night?" He asked, not bothering to turn around to address his servant.

A groan sounded first, something tired, drawn out and punctuated at the end with a yawn. "Wha?" Merlin answered, still smacking his lips.

Arthur spun around, eyes narrowing on the man before him. _Something _had happened and he was going to get some answers. "What happened last night?" He motioned at the devastation all around them. "What caused this?" What he really wanted to know was how he slept through all that. Normally such a ruckus would've had him up and ready to face whatever was at hand. It was more than a little unsettling to find his guard had been down so such an extend.

Merlin blinked dumbly then scanned his surroundings. "What caused this? Um…yeah…Well, you see…" And there it was. That obvious, searching span of hesitation which Merlin so obviously used to decide whether he was going with the truth or making up some stupid lie. Mouth pursed, Merlin stood up. The man's silence stretched, distant birdsong being the only thing that sounded. Brow furrowed, concerned frown in place, he softly shook his head and then let out a low whistle of amazement. "Would you look at that! Sure did make a mess of things, yeah?"

Arthur resorted to infusing his tone with more authority, more anger. "_Mer_lin! What happened?"

"Oh…um…yeah…" Another pause, longer this time, followed. Finally, Merlin flashed a sheepish grin. "I was practicing."

"What? Were you dancing?"

Merlin snorted. "No, I was practicing with a _sword_. I just must have…" Here he glanced around again. "…overdone it a bit."

Arthur burst out laughing. There was no way he was buying into that. He'd seen Merlin heft a sword a time or two. The man could barely lift it over his head let alone hack the surrounding foliage to bits. "You really expect me to believe _you_ did all _this_?" He quieted his mirth and waited for the answer.

Merlin shrugged and then started gathering up their gear. It wouldn't take long to pack up. They didn't have much, after all. Still, Arthur stood, watching, waiting to see if there was anything Merlin wanted to add to his story of what had happened that night.

"Don't know what kind of shape you'll be in." Merlin mumbled, his joviality gone. A solemn serious tone took over, but he kept his eyes on his work, off of Arthur. "When we get there, you might be…sick." He looked up then, a sad smile creeping onto his face. "I might have to help out. I might need to fight."

That sat like a stone in Arthur's belly. It was a fear that was well founded, one full of truths, but he refused to admit it.

"It won't come to that. I'll be fine." The response came out gruffer than Arthur meant and to soften it, he added, "due in no small part to you. I know you did your best to heal me last night." Strangely, Merlin seemed to stiffen at that. "It must have been difficult to find the proper herbs in the dark."

Another low sigh escaped Merlin as he cast a somewhat wary smile at Arthur.

"It wasn't an easy night, but Gaius has taught me well. I-I…" Here Merlin stuttered and averted his gaze again. "I did my best." It was an odd confession, one laced with guilt, as if Merlin was apologizing for not being able to do more.

"Well, of course you did," Arthur answered, slipping into his best mocking tone. "You'd have to. There's no way you want me gone. What would you do without me? You're absolute rubbish as a servant. No one else would have you. Would they? Really, you have no choice but to do everything in your power to save your job. I have no doubt in that." He grinned as he watched an honest, genuine smile finally lighten Merlin's face. "Now," he added, "Get your lazy bones in gear. We need to moving."

Merlin nodded, but, much to Arthur's annoyance, the man did insist they eat a quick breakfast before setting out. How Merlin could even think of his stomach at a time like this was beyond Arthur. Still, he complied with the request and nibbled down as much as he dare before they shouldered their gear and set off once again.

Hopefully, before night fell, Arthur would no long need worry about the effects of the poison. In the end though, he had no intention of giving in to the slow death. No, he'd go out in a blaze of battle, fighting for his cure. Just him. Merlin could talk big now, but they had one sword between them and…He paused at that thought. One sword?

"_Mer_lin," he growled. "Did you use _my _sword to hack at the trees at with last night?"

The beaming grin he got back was answer enough.


End file.
